In plain words
Daśaratha, lamenting to Rāma: "Come! Go! Come! Come again, look at me once more, and go!" O you who broke the bow of the bull-rider [Śiva] for the sake of her [Sītā] whose hair always bears flowers and whose lovely shoulders are like bamboo! O son, who melt the heart of me, of grievous sins! Today, as you go into the vast forest where the elephants roam, how is it that my heart stands firm and does not split in two?